Poetry By Jan Sand
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Index of poems:
God or time or whatever Kills all things, good or bad Or whatever, that the intricate May succumb to the inexorable. The sweet young eyes of puppies, Of kids and baby rabbits, of chicks Bloom to maturity and harden With intent to programmed purposes. Nothing can dissuade the cavalcade That marches out of stones and sunlight Into greenery, forward to flesh Which learns to mesh with blood And terror, ever on to innovate The progenies of life and life, All gobbled into death To nourish variation on the possible So that we can look in wonder At the infinite confusions And refuse to grasp that this dough Could knead itself Into the bread of life. The dead are with us now Who will, in five years or ten, See time swallow up the universe. They can still enjoy a summer wren, Become enchanted as green sparks of Spring Ignite the verdancy of Summer, Sniff Autumn smokes, catch the sting Of frozen air when snow dusts out of clouds. Their lives fly high with us like sunlit kites That glitter at the end of string, Still tug our lives with theirs. Now is the time to exchange a thought, Investigate a dangling query. Time cannot be sold or bought. Our limits are not just theory. We hold the present time in common hands. It is this mutuality that saves. Never mind the flowers on the graves.
Come ladies, come gents To our wonderful events. I would like to invite you inside To our great cosmic zoo, Fascinating to you. Please enter, let me be your guide.
We’ve creatures with some features
There’s the rolly-poly wiggly thing
We’ve a tiger made of fuzzy hair
Here’s a Yooman in a crouch
So enter now into our zoo. A shark is a fish who could find you delish After a gulp at a squid For this carnivore Has a mind at its core Comprised in toto of id. While you must give a plus To the wild octopus With a brain divided in lobes With one for each pod ‘Cause its thinking is odd With multitudinous phobes. A starfish is strange With a small mental range And an appetite mostly for oysters Who are no competition For mind erudition In contrast to monks stuck in cloisters. A jellyfish mind You cannot find For its neurons are finely distributed Which makes it most free From anxiety And frightfully uninhibited. A lobster may be One must agree Caught in continuous question. For its feet and its claws And its multiple jaws Must function to aid its digestion And which to move first Is a query quite cursed For there really is many too many. But I wouldn’t suggest It would be much more blessed If it had in its place not any. The snail in its shell Is feeling most well When dripping with goo and with slime. And its thoughts are aglow When thinking quite slow, An adept at taking its time. Down at the bottom of the service pack We each carry to combat circumstance Are the instructions For the unwinding. We live linear on subsequence. The frayed end trapped in the clench Of the final second Spins outward in time reversed. The strands disconnect As the “I” of position Fizzes off. The last to go Is the letter “A”. Black aircraft grind white streaks Into the blue glass sky Dumping anger, dispensing death As a sporting Jove might play At casual catastrophe. The anger is quite clinical, A packaged cargo, transported by machine, Overseen by men whose concern Is totally deployed to Earth coordinates. They might equally be UPS With chocolates and greeting cards Or servicemen come to connect The telephone. Damage judged collateral Is mere inefficiency To be minimized, sometimes with apologies To do better at next try.
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